Page 10 of Touched By Maen Llia
The soldier, Marc…Marcus, she corrected herself, for the Celtic rendering came more readily to her mind than the old Roman form…Marcus had already moved toward the dining room, along with the other men. The ladies of the court who had been to the river streamed between them. Hunger overcame their shyness.
Catrin moved into the dining room herself and up the long room to the table at the end where old King Geraint had once prevailed. Now the table was for Eira and Caron and Dai…and Ianto.
Ianto’s skinny, short figure was at the far end. Catrin moved around this end of the table as Merlin and Eira reached the big chair Geraint had always used.
“It is by rights yours,” Eira told Merlin.
“It was never mine and never will be,” Merlin said firmly. Softly. “I will sit beside it, which is the place I know best.”
He helped Eira into the second chair along from Geraint’s, saving Catrin from the work, then settled on the smaller chair which Eira usually used. Catrin hovered, trying to anticipate what Eira might need.
“And what is the reason for the feast, tonight?” Merlin asked, as the kitchen staff streamed into the room, carrying their trays and jugs and bowls. Two men carried a big tray between them, holding roasted venison. They placed it upon the table in the middle of the room and began to carve it, while the staff filled the platters in front of each diner. The buzz of conversation, filled with hungry eagerness, rose to fill the room.
“Why, it is mid-summer, Prince Merlin,” Eira replied.
Catrin closely watched the wizard’s face, for any reaction he made to that statement. Merlin’s expression did not change. “I see,” he said.
“But it is not mid-summer!” Catrin whispered.
Eira scowled at her. “Shush, girl. Now is not the time.”
Merlin, though, leaned back to look at Catrin. “You are the Queen’s handmaid?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“But you know how to tell the seasons and the days of the year?”
“Do younotknow?” Catrin replied.
“Catrin!” Eira said sharply.
Merlin raised his hand. His gaze remained on Catrin, making her shift on her feet. “This court has a druid, does it not?”
This time, both EiraandCatrin remained silent.
Merlin raised his brow, which was still black and thick.
“Ianto calls himself mage,” Eira said. “He was my husband’s servant.”
Merlin swiveled his head to take in Ianto at the other end of the table, with Caron and Dai between him and the big, empty chair. He looked back at Eira, then Catrin.
Catrin shivered.
“I would not deem to dispute the King’s advisor,” Merlin said.
He knew it was not mid-summer. Catrin felt a flare of hard, hot jubilation in her chest. She had not been wrong at all. Merlin himself knew the truth.
The man servant, Glaw, came to serve Queen Eira. He was the only person Eira would allow to serve her and he knew her preferences. He quickly added to her platter the little meal that was all she would ever eat. Then he took the wine pitcher from the boy beside him and filled Eira’s cup.
Catrin stared at the cup. Her heart began to shriek again as she watched the wine settle in the cup. It was a pale golden yellow color, but in the cup it looked…
Black.
Catrin’s belly crimped.
It must be a trick of the light, she told herself. It was much later than the usual time the household dined. The light was different. That was all. Or the inside of Eira’s cup needed scrubbing and soaking, as it sometimes did. It was metal, and the metal blackened occasionally and mysteriously.
That was all it was.
